


Go to bed, Snow

by spaladin



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: M/M, Prequel, SnowBaz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-09-27 22:14:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10053752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaladin/pseuds/spaladin
Summary: It's fifth year at Watford - It hasn't been long since Baz realised his feelings for Simon Snow and now he's struggling





	1. Go to bed, Snow

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a sort of prequel to the events in 'Carry On', I was eager to explore some of the episodes mentioned in the book such as the catacombs, Simon's progressing relationship with Agatha and Baz's reactions to that, as well as the couple's hilariously hormone-fueled teenage angst (and - yes - the growing sexual tension between the pair).   
> I tried to emmulate a sense of Rainbow Rowell's writing while keeping my own style - anyhow, I hope this makes for an entertaining read!

"Go to bed, Snow."  
"I am."  
"Go quicker."  
Simon sighs, rolling his eyes.  
Simon Snow is getting undressed for bed. And I can't stop staring. Why does he have to do it like that? I think as he sloooowly unbuttons his shirt. The worst part about it is that he doesn't even know he's doing it, and what it's doing to me. I huff loudly, loudly enough for him to get the message and roll over in bed. I don't think I can bear the sight of him topless tonight. It's getting painful and I have to force myself to look away. He shuffles around in the bathroom for a few more minutes. Hurry up! I think. The fact that he's stomping around with no regard for me isn't even what's irritating. It's the fact that he feels the need to stomp around with no regard for me with the entire top half of his body completely exposed. Does he know? Does he know how difficult it is for me not to stare? Does he know how difficult it is for me to stare? Does he know how difficult it is for me having to spend night after night with him just there? No, Simon Snow does not know, nor will he ever.  
That's the most painful part; knowing that I'm going to have to deal with this for nearly two more years. I've thought about asking the mage if I could swap rooms but that wouldn't be allowed. And that would be painful. And I'd also have to talk to the mage. It's all I can do not to groan out loud at the frustrating, painful thoughts inside my head. And it's all because of you Simon Snow. You and your bloody habits and your hair and your Lack. Of. Bloody. Pyjamas.  
Sometimes I want to kill him.  
He finally crawls into bed, fidgeting and shuffling and adjusting the quilts. He does that every night. He does it in his sleep too. And he snores. He used to say goodnight to me, even if it was begrudgingly, but now it's just silence. I think it's because he knows I'm a vampire. Stupid word… I think. Vampire.  
That's all he sees me as now, I can tell. He's always staring at my mouth. As though my fangs are going to pop out at any second. He doesn't even know they're there. But they are. And sometimes I think about what it would be like to sink them into his neck… Well, not really. I think more about what it would be like to have my mouth on his neck.  
No, don't start, I will myself not to start fantasising. Not now.  
It's my fault he found out about me, anyway. I could have been more careful but I wanted him to find out. I'm not entirely sure what I was trying to achieve by that but it's out in the open now.  
And it's made things so much more complicated.  
Simon Snow thinks that I am a monster. I'm not exactly great at proving myself otherwise. Everything I say is the opposite to what I'm thinking. He does genuinely irritate me. He's an idiot. And he has stupid habits. And a stupid way of doing his hair. And a stupid girlfriend. And he's all I can think about.  
I realised it as soon as he discovered what I was. He'd followed me around for months, hunting out my terrible secret, determined to show the world what a monster I was - and I let him. I played with him, toyed with him. I still savour every expression that flickered over his face that night. First of all it was triumph; he'd found me in a compramising situation and this was his ultimate chance to abolish his fatal enemy. Then it was confusion as it dawned on him that we'd spent five years together and I still hadn't attacked him. Then he got frustrated, because there was nothing he could do to stop me getting him right then and then in those dark and deserted catacombs. I read it all over his eyes and his mouth – he uses his mouth a lot to convey expression. He realised I'd been playing him for a fool this whole time. He was slightly wrong there though. He believed I had been waiting for this moment to bring about his downfall, when in fact I just wanted to witness the devastatingly beautiful moment that he discovered everything. Those ridiculously obvious looks on his face. Well, it was all worth it. I don't think the night ended as he expected. It didn't end as I expected either. He let me go. And as he walked out of those catacombs, sword held loosely in one hand, I had an overwhelming urge to run after him and kiss him. That was when I knew. I was in love with Simon Snow. I had been from the first moment I met him, and I would until my last breath on this earth. And who knows when that could be.


	2. 'Passed' not 'Past'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baz is jealous because Simon is about to make 'the leap' in his relationship with Agatha.

I walk into my bedroom. Snow is sat on his bed, cross-legged and muttering ceaselessly with his eyes firmly shut. He hasn't noticed me yet. I clear my throat.  
Snow whips around. His cheeks flush red when he sees me and I can't help but feel satisfied.  
"What are you doing here?" He snaps. I raise my eyebrows.  
"Oh, do forgive me. Is this your room now? Has the Mage's pet been granted his own quarters?"  
He growls in what I interpret to be a frustrated manner and shuffles the papers at his feet. His awful, scrawly handwriting covers them. Bullet points added in different colours and notes scattered haphazardly all over. My handwriting is much better than his. I remember when he called it 'gay' in our third year. I didn't bother to contradict his statement for obvious reasons. I didn't even realise that handwriting could be considered gay.  
"What's that? Your will?" I remark as I breeze past him to my own bed.  
"No." He replies through gritted teeth, his face still flushed. His magic is pouring off him in burning waves. I can feel it. Really feel it. It's like a magnet. So I turn away from him and make my bed (it's tidy already but I need an excuse to do something with my hands).  
"What are you doing then, Snow?" I sigh, lying on my back with my arms folded behind my head. If I was alone I'd probably be curled up around the sheets rather than stretched out like this. I like to think I look more impressive like this. I like to think that Snow's paying attention to how I position myself. But he isn't; he's ignoring me and muttering again.  
"Crowley, Snow, if you're going to do that then you can piss off."  
"I'm practising!"  
"Practising what?!"  
Snow doesn't answer. His eyes are open now and he's staring up at the ceiling like he's trying to concentrate. Unable to stand his ridiculous melodramatics, I leap off the bed and snatch the paper from his hands.  
"Hey!" He cries, flying off the bed after me. I hold the papers high above my head, waving them teasingly above my head. If only you were two inches taller… Too bad, I think as he jumps in the air trying to catch them.  
"There's no point in trying to keep secrets from me, Snow." He stops jumping up and down and falls back onto the bed, defeated. He groans, and covers his face with his hands. I can't help but love that sound.  
"It's not like I care anyway." He mumbles through his fingers. "I can't get it right." Then he laughs harshly and props himself up on one elbow. "Who knows, maybe you could even help me given you people are supposed to be so great at these things?"  
"Tch! Why would I help you?" I spin away from him and clutch the scrawly notes in my hands. There are scribbled out paragraphs, rewritten and covered in notes. But they all say the same thing.

'Agatha,

I can't believe how much time has past since you agreed to become my girlfriend. These have been the happiest months of my life and I want you to know that I'll do everything and anything in my power to make you the happiest girl alive. I know that I'm not perfect, I'm far from it, and as much as you like to reassure me I know that I'll never be in the same league as you. But know this; I'm going to make tonight really special, I want it to mean something and-'

My hands are shaking. I throw the paper down at my feet with all the might I can muster but it still floats down pathetically. I should have screwed it up first.  
"What a pile of crap." I spit in Snow's direction.  
"You wanted to read it!"  
"I wish I hadn't. That's the most awful pile of shit I've ever read." Maybe I'm exaggerating. Okay, I know I'm exaggerating, but the look of hurt that has crept onto Snow's face is worth it. "You also spelt 'Passed' wrong." I add for good measure.  
"Who cares?"  
"The girl who, as you rightly say, you will never be in the same league as."  
"Well how's it meant to be spelt?"  
"Figure it out." I say bluntly, before turning tail and slamming the bathroom door behind me. I hear his exasperated sigh and his exhaled "Knobhead!" through the thin wood that separates us. I'm glad we have this bathroom – it's a great retreat for when my feelings get too much. That doesn't happen a lot, but the thought of him… With her… Like that… Well, it makes my stomach churn. I hate to admit it but that's because I'd much rather be in her place. I'm scared that he'll guess how I really feel after that embarassing outburst. Actually no, he's too oblivious. I wish he'd figure it out already. Then maybe he'd hurry up and put me out of my misery.

Snow's out with her. 'Doing the deed' I imagine. I took a shower yesterday after 'the letter' incident to make it look like that's why I'd marched off into the bathroom like a child. Snow didn't bat an eyelid when I returned, (Half naked and dripping after my shower, I could easily have dried myself in the bathroom but I wanted him to look at me. Besides, he walks around topless half the time anyway, it's not like I'm the only one) he simply explained that he didn't care what I think and that he and Agatha would have a wondeful time, regardless of my opinion. Then I felt queasy again and went back into the bathroom to 'dry my hair'. It's not as though the thought of sex makes me queasy, quite the opposite. It's the thought of Snow having sex with anyone that isn't me. That's bloody ridiculous, I know, but it's true. A year ago I would have nearly had a heart attack at those thoughts. I pushed them out, kept them locked away somewhere secret inside my head, because back then I wasn't in love with Simon Snow. Not consciously anyway. I still censor myself to some extent, but really, what's the point? I may as well enjoy these far-fetched queer fantasies of mine before Snow steals them away. Which he will, I know exactly what is going to happen. He, as my nemesis, is going to bring about my downfall. And I'm going to let him because I don't think I can bear this torment for an eternity. At the start of the year I tried (and failed miserably) to convince myself that it was just a phase. But I will feel like this forever, and forever is a very long time.

The almighty chosen one returns just before lights out with a grin on his gorgeously smug face that makes me want to punch him.  
"What're you so happy about?" I remark with a scoff. How immature. I can't help myself.  
"Oh… Nothing." He replies deliberately, peeling off his shirt at the same time. Damn it, Snow…  
"You're disgusting." I mutter with every trace of contempt in my voice that pushes its way up from my boiling stomach.  
"Disgusting?" I can practically hear the laugh in his voice. "You're one to talk."  
What does that mean? Is he referring to the fact that I drink blood? Or something else? I always expected him to use that against me eventually but still…  
"Tch." Is all I respond with before turning over and hauling the covers over my head. It's dark now so I don't have to look at him. Even his magic feels different. Like it's changed somehow. No, that's bullshit, I think. Just my imagination. He trundles into the bathroom as usual, shuffles around for a while, and then crawls into bed. Then he casts Out like a light! and the room goes dark. I keep the lump in my throat exactly where it is. In my throat. I don't want to cry.  
"How was it then?" I ask before I can help myself. To my surprise, Snow actually answers.  
"It was… Really nice."  
I give a snort of laughter before burying myself deeper into the covers.  
Snow means that. He actually means it.  
I allow myself the luxury of a single tear. I watch it sploosh slowly onto my pillow. Then I close my eyes and silence the thoughts inside my head. I'll forget about this tomorrow, I think as I drift into an uncomfortable sleep.


	3. The Merwolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baz's instincts are driving him crazy. W/SnowBaz banter

The moat would be fine if it wasn't for the merwolves. They're disgusting, really. The way that awful, rancid smell drifts up to our room. It's meant to be the best room. For Snow it is; he doesn't have to put up with that smell. But I do.  
Even so…  
I don't know why I did it. I think it just got too much. I look down at my hands. Blood. Blood. So much blood. I'm knee-deep in water and my face is wet. Tears or blood? I don't know. Mostly blood.  
I killed one today.  
I hate them. But I killed one and drained it. I can't help but feel completely disgusted with myself. I always feel disgusting after feeding. But this time it's worse.  
The merwolf's body floats aimlessly around my legs, the holes in its neck seeping the dregs of cold, dead blood that I missed. I viciously kick it aside, causing a small swell. It sinks away into the deeper end of the moat. The ripples reflect pleasant moombeams that spread across this side of Watford, illuminating the grass and the water and the diamond paned windows. The scene would be picturesque if it weren't for what I'd just done and the swirling red, ribbons of scarlett dancing in the water around me.  
Thankfully it's the start of the Christmas holidays; most people left today. And there's little chance of someone wandering around the moat at this time of night anyway. I wonder if anybody heard the screams of the creature… Or mine. If Snow's in our room then he certainly did. But he knows what I am so it doesn't matter. I wipe my mouth with my sleeve. Stupid move. This shirt was crisp, clean white little over ten minutes ago. Now it's soaked and dripping and covered in slick, merwolf blood. I shiver and pull it over my head. There's a clean set of clothes in the forest. That's where I'll go to feed if not the Catacombs. I'm usually clean, immaculate. I can drain a horse and avoid even the tiniest stain, but I like to be prepared just in case. Just in case of situations like this when I'm completely careless. When I let the instincts take over.  
I go to the oak tree at the furthest end of the forest. The clothes are buried a few centimetres under the soil. I stored them in a Primark bag. I don't shop at Primark. No, thank you. But I figured that if anyone happened to come across it (Very unlikely, but still) then they'd be more inclined to leave it alone than if it were a Ralph Lauren one. I can't help but be inwardly grateful to my past self for putting these here, even if it was over a year ago.

The room is deserted when I return. I'm grateful; I don't have the energy to be spiteful tonight. It's odd. I'm usually full of energy after filling up, but I don't think that Merwolf quite did the trick. Snow's laptop is open on his desk. He's left it on too. I consider spelling it shut again but I don't even have the energy to do that. And that prank is getting old these days.  
My aunt Fiona's sent me a text.  
'YOUR FATHER TELLS ME YOU'RE NOT COMING HOME FOR CHRISTMAS. MAKE YOURSELF USEFUL AND RAID THE MAGE'S COMPUTER."  
Like most old biddies her age, she believes that typing in capital letters will somehow will the power of her text to be stronger over any of the others. It makes me laugh usually - but not today. And 'raid the mage's computer'?! Like I have the time.  
'No, thanks. I'm planning on spending my time frolicking in the snow with my homework. You do it.'  
Fiona tries to call me after that. I don't answer it. I can almost picture her plotting and scheming. Stomping around her London flat with her Normal boyfriend in those terrible, banged up Doc Martens of hers. She's given me an idea though. I decide to raid Snow's computer instead. It's his own fault for leaving it open. I wiggle the mouse to wake it up. The screen flashes. To my delight, it hasn't locked itself. Instead it opens onto an Amazon wishlist. Perfumes, necklaces, bracelets…  
"Well, Snow, what do you know…" I mutter, scrolling through the lists of girly products. I wonder what would happen if I ordered a ton of stuff on his PayPal account? I'm about to check out (I put 54 products into his basket) when my fun is spoiled by the entrance of the Mage's heir.  
"Oi! What the hell are you doing?!" He yells. His northern accent gets stronger when he shouts. It's one of the reasons I provoke him. I don't turn around. Instead, I close the window and make squares with the cursor on his home screen.  
"Using your laptop. You don't mind, do you? I assumed you wouldn't seeing as you left it open on your desk."  
"Yeah." He huffs, storming over and snapping the laptop shut. "My desk." He smells like winter. An aura of chilly air hangs around him and the tip of his nose and his cheeks are tinged pink. He's been outside. I tilt my head to one side and look up at him from his desk chair, my hands folded innocently on my lap.  
"Quite a Christmas list you've got here, Snow… Last minute presents for Agatha maybe?"  
Snow's cheeks flush a little pinker.  
"None. Of. Your. Buisness." He spits, shoving me off the chair. He reopens his laptop and punches his password in furiously. I smirk and go and sit on my bed as Snow scrolls through his computer history to see what I've been up to. He pauses.  
"You were going to use my account to buy stuff?" His voice is quiet, deadly. I laugh and cross my legs, toying with my phone on the bed next to me.  
"Thought I'd help you out with your disastrous present ideas." I remark, relishing in the lie. I can almost hear him grinding his teeth.  
"You're such a bastard!" He yells, throwing his laptop lid down again. It's a wonder it doesn't crack. "I… Ugh… I fucking hate you." He fumes.  
"Likewise."Snow's lips have crushed into a hard, pink line and he's clenching his fists as he looks across at me. He hasn't tried to look this threatening since he discovered me in the Catacombs months ago. I think he's been holding back in case I kill him in his sleep. He doesn't know that I would never do that. It wouldn't be convenient for my plan to die at his hands. He looks like he might try now. I raise my eyebrows as a challenge.  
"Are you going to hit me, Snow? Or are you simply going to stand there looking like a retard?" I emphasise that last one. We haven't had a proper fight in ages – I can tell he's absolutely spoiling for one. So am I, honestly, but I'm worried about getting too close to him in case I do something I regret. So instead I sigh, and languidly lie back onto the bed.  
"Honestly, Snow. You're never going to impress a girl with gifts like those." I say. He snorts and flings his coat onto the floor.  
"Don't act like you care."  
"I don't. I was actually thinking that I might get her something myself. She's a very beautiful girl, you know. It would be a shame to disappoint her wouldn't it?" I'm doing it again. Teasing, playing, provoking. I can't help it; it's too much fun watching him turn deadly silent. His eyes widen and a familiar crease appears around his eyebrows.  
"You wouldn't." He whispers in horror. "You wouldn't. Her parents hate your family. And what makes you think she'd want anything from you?"  
I shrug in false nonchalance and say, "It's the way she looks at me. I can tell. You should keep an eye on her, Snow, or she might just fall for me instead."  
He's silent again, and I can't gather from his reaction whether he's going to beat me up or cry. It's neither. Instead, he shakes his head and meanders to the bathroom with a dismissive,  
"Fuck off, Baz."  
I don't know why that gets to me. A stab of pure hatred wrenches through my blood-filled stomach. I want to kill Snow in that moment. I hate him. I hate what he does to me. I hate how dismissive he is. I hate how he hates me. I hate him.

I'm in the common room doing homework when Snow speaks to me next. There's no one about. Everyone has gone. The room is clean and warm and quiet. I was doing just fine when -  
"Did you kill a merwolf, Baz?"  
"Excuse me?"  
Snow speaks to me from across the room. He's standing in the doorway and I hate that worried look in his eyes. Then I see what he's holding. It's my shirt… From the other night. It's stained red in places still, and tinged a dark, muddy brown.  
"Where did you get that?" I snap, standing up. I'm vaguely aware of the papers flying off the table.  
"It was by the moat… And there was a dead merwolf too. Washed up. I was just wondering, that's all."  
"Well, that's not mine." I lie. He knows it's a lie. He always knows when I lie. I've never cared until now. I reply too quickly and my breathing is faster. Snow's expression of worry only deepens. He leaves the shirt that I'll only throw in the bin by the door.  
"Okay." He says slowly, walking towards the staircase to our room. "Whatever you say, Baz."


	4. Magickal Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baz's time for revenge on Simon Snow and the Mage has come - the only question that remains is if he will be able to commit this act that is so taboo among all in the magickal community?

It's impossible not to be smug when I get back from the Easter holidays. I haven't done anything. Yet. But I can. And I will. I'll admit, I was slightly terrified when my aunt Fiona handed me this thing. I have no idea where she got the magic to create something like this but it still didn't surprise me. She's so desperate to get back at the mage somehow. Or the 'Usurper' as she likes to call him. This time she thinks she might have found a way to do it. Through me. Or more directly, through the one and only mage's hair. Simon Fucking Snow.  
I've hated him even more deeply than usual this spring. I'm sick of thinking about him. More than anything, I want him gone. Now I have a means to get rid of him once and for all. And yes, it is slightly terrifying. But I think I'll do it. No, I'm sure I'll do it. I've fantasised about killing him ever since I met him. I've never actually tried (However much he likes to think so) but even killing seems easier than the task I've been given. Stealing a magician's voice might possibly be the worst crime one could commit. But I am a Pitch. And this act will not only bring peace to me, but my family too. I keep telling myself that. It helps whenever I start to think too deeply into it.  
"Typical, Baz." Says Snow, walking into the bathroom.  
"What?" I snap, throwing him a glare.  
"You always unpack your cosmetics before anything else. All these bottles of stuff… I don't even know what's in half of them."  
"Yeah, and you don't bloody need to."  
Snow's eyes widen. This is harsh, even for me. I'm not even trying to be clever with my comebacks. Just plain harsh.  
"Right…" He says slowly, backing off.  
The sight of him is setting me on edge. I keep thinking of that innocent-looking tape recorder in my pocket. I know I could use it any time. It's pressing against my thigh, willing me to do it. Willing me to steal the voice of Simon Snow. But it's not the right time. Yet. I think. I avoid looking at Snow all evening. Setting my eyes downcast whenever he walks past me. Talking through him, not to him. It's a good tactic. I use it a lot. Mostly on my family though. I usually relish in any interaction from Snow. But not this time. I need to detatch myself… That's the only way I'll be prepared. Without magickal words, a magician is nothing. Nothing at all. In fact, it's even worse than being a Normal. At least Normals don't know they're Normal. A magician with no voice would have to live the rest of their life knowing that their magic is inside of them – Untouched, unused. Just as useless as a Normal. Can I really do that to him?  
Yes. Yes, I can. He deserves it after all he's put me through.

"Don't let me down. I don't want to see you running away with your tail between your legs." Those were the last words Aunt Fiona said to me as I got out of the car. She doesn't believe in me. I'll just have to prove her wrong. It's been a week since we got back. I've still not tried. I've stroked the 'record' button in my pocket a few times when it's just been me and Snow. But I haven't actually pressed it yet. I will. I've just had breakfast. Snow was glaring at me from across the hall. I always make sure to position myself in such a way that he'll be able to see me. I can feel his magic, rolling off him, all directed at me. It burns and tickles. It's almost as though I'm trying to get a fix of his magic. One of the many reasons I provoke him. I've been deliberately avoiding him though. We always try and stay out of each other's way but this time it's different. I think he's noticed. That's bad, Snow doesn't notice anything. The confirmation of that fact arrives this afternoon. Snow is strolling up to me across the lawns. It's a pleasant afternoon – Bright, warm, breezy. The picture perfect spring. I was reclining under a Beech tree as far away from the moat as possible. And Snow would of course choose this moment to interrupt, the moment I've finally found some peace from his constant presence. The tape recorder presses itself against my leg, reminding me it's there. I could do it now… I think as Snow approaches.  
"What are you plotting?" He demands as he enters the shade of the tree. I sigh pull myself up to full height, one hand in my empty pocket.  
"Many things, Snow. Surely that's not news?"  
His hands are clenched solidly by his side and there's a single, copper curl falling over his eye. I just want to lean across and brush it aside… But-  
"No, seriously, Baz. You're up to something."  
I roll my eyes and laugh at him. "Where's your sidekick?"  
"If you mean Penny"-  
"Ah, yes. Bunce." I make sure to raise one corner of my mouth in a sneer. See what Snow makes of that. His brow knits together furiously and his mouth is a simmering line.  
"What?" I continue, raising an eyebrow, "Is she getting sick of your obsession with me? I'm not surprised, honestly. It's unhealthy, Snow, you"-  
Snow's fist comes flying out of nowhere. I'd be impressed if it wasn't for the sudden, shattering blow to the right side of my face. I stumble back a few paces, stopping when my back touches the tree.  
"I'm sick to death of you. You're so fucking smug all the time and I hate the way you stare at my girlfriend." Snow growls, his arms shaking.  
I stare at him for a moment, completely taken aback. But I compose myself in seconds, lightly touching the throbbing spot where he hit me.  
"This is what this is about?!" I laugh incredulously. "How pathetic."  
A few first years have begun to stare from across the lawns. Snow doesn't seem to notice. He leaps at me again, but I'm ready this time.  
Snow punches me in the stomach. I knee him in the shins. He grabs my shirt and shoves me against the tree. I grasp his shoulders and throw him onto the ground. He trips me over and pushes my face into the grass. I wrap my arms around his middle and roll us both over. Suddenly, I'm on top of him, pinning his wrists above his head so he can't lash out. I've straddled Snow underneath me. His legs kick uselessly behind me and we're both gasping for air, breathing heavily and gazing at each other. Snow's mouth is open in a grimace and I'm sure I'm mirroring him. His eyes dart to my mouth and his eyes widen. Can he see my fangs? I think irrationally for a moment. If he can, so what? I want to scare him after all.  
"Get. Off. Me." He snarls through gritted teeth. For the first time in a long time, I feel completely in control. Snow is underneath me, helpless, completely at my mercy. Our faces are close too. Snow's magic frazzles the air around him, it makes my hair stand on end and my whole body shiver. I think he must feel it because his hips arch into me for a moment, pressing upwards.  
"Snow…" I whisper, tightening my grip around his wrists. His expression loosens for a moment and his lips part. He doesn't look so terrified for a second. More… Curious? Sad? Confused? Snow feels all of those things. He's completely readable. I always know what he's thinking, and right now, he's –  
"Keep your distance!" Snow and I are wrenched apart by the spell. I hit the ground at full force with a loud thud.  
"Agh…" I groan, rubbing my head as I sit up.  
"You two! For crying out loud." A girl is stood above Snow who is still lying on the ground, her curly, tangled mane falling around her shoulders. Her chunky legs set apart and her hands on her hips. Penelope Bunce… I think with mild irritation. Then, that cow spelled us apart! I leap to my feet, brushing myself down. Then I see the crowds gathered around the Beech tree, all of them vying for a closer look at the fight. Then there's this girl, Philippa Stainton who comes running over to Snow as though he's died, screeching his name. You silly bitch, I think as she throws herself over him, he's not interested. Without a second look, I march back towards the castle, bitter resentment brewing in my stomach. Pain, pain and more bloody pain. If I wasn't sure about doing it before, I am now.

I'm stood at the gates when it happens. I know he's going to come through this way. He always does at this time. On this hour. On this day. (Not that I've memorised his entire schedule) Just the sight of me is enough to set him off after our fight. As soon as I start to see him lose it, I'll take it. I'll take Snow's voice, and that'll be that. No more mage's heir. No more pain… I think.  
Snow doesn't notice me at first, stood there, waiting for him. It's my small, triumphant smile in his direction that does it. He whips his head around, frustration blazing in his eyes as soon as he spots me. Snow stops mid-tread. I will him to come closer… It works like a spell. He's drawn to me like a magnet. His unquenched anger pulling him towards me. I can feel the recorder in my pocket… I place my finger on the button that I know will end it all. The downfall of the chosen one, in my hands. I can't help it, I feel a tremendous surge of power at the sheer amount of control I have. Over Snow, over the mage, over the entire magickal kingdom at this moment  
I hit record as soon as Snow opens his mouth to hurl abuse at me.  
Perhaps if I'd done this a week ago, taken every perfect oppurtunity given to me, this would have all passed without a flaw. But no. I had to wait. I had to, didn't I? Because nothing ever goes right for me. And I'm a difficult bastard.  
I hit stop in an instant. But it's already too late.  
Philippa-fucking-Stainton. You ruined my plan. You crushed my soul oppurtunity to take away this torture once and for all, because at that exact moment, you chose to run across the lawn towards him. You called his name at the exact moment I hit record. Your voice now belongs to me. But it isn't the voice I want. I've stolen the wrong magickal words. I hit stop in an instant.  
Philippa claps her hands to her mouth, her eyes widened in horror. Snow half turned at the odd sound leaving Philippa's mouth. She opens and closes it, gaping at him like a goldfish, her fingers clutching at her throat. My stomach is cold. My heart is in my feet, or my throat. I'm cold and hot at the same time. I mask the pure terror and dread on my face as soon as Snow looks at me. It's as though we're connected at that moment; his expression spells everything that my mind is screaming.  
"What have you done?" He whispers. I glare at him, my expression is made of stone at that moment. Dead, cold. Just as it should be. That's all I am, after all.  
"What the hell have you done?!" He repeats, shouting it this time as tears start to pour down Philippa's face.  
I'm so sorry.  
"I haven't done anything."  
I didn't want this.  
"Liar!" Snow starts towards me. I don't make an attempt to move back. He grabs my collar. The top button comes apart.  
Don't touch me. Please.  
"You did this… Didn't you?" His voice is shaking. He's angry, and scared.  
"Prove it."  
End me, right now.  
Snow gasps sharply. His eyes are glistening. Surely he's not going to cry for her? True, that girl means nothing to me, but the very act of stealing a magician's voice. That's enough to disturb anyone. Snow's fingers uncurl from my collar and he takes a few steps backwards. He's staring at me with pure disgust. As though I am the foulest creature he has ever seen in his life. At this moment, I'm sure I am. Snow will never forgive me for this.  
I slowly turn my back on Snow and make my way out of the gates. Perhaps I'll go into the woods and drain every living creature that crosses my path.  
But what I find is not even that much blood can drown the regret in my heart.

Snow is asleep when I return to my room. I'm glad. I don't think I can ever look him in the eye again. I take a quiet shower and prepare myself for the no doubt sleepless night ahead. Snow is completely relaxed in sleep. His frown isn't there. His mouth isn't down-turned. It's slightly open and snoring softly. I stand over his bed for a few moments. I want to say something. I want desperately for him to know how sorry I am.  
"I'm so sorry." I breathe. The sound is barely there, it's so quiet. But I've said it. And then I repeat it, again and again, until my whole frame is shaking with suppressed sobs. I thought every tear I had had been shed in that forest, in the comfort of the trees, where nothing could hear me but the birds and the insects. But I can't hold them back now. Every drop of sadness and regret trails down my face, drip by drip. I can hear each one hitting the soft carpet at my feet. Snow sleeps on, completely unaware. I'm still mouthing the words, over and over, an empty apology that he will never hear. All that anger dissipated the moment I realised what I'd done. I don't know if I can ever be angry again. All of a sudden I find myself whispering words I never thought I'd say out loud. The words that were meant to stay in my head forever, never to breach that wall into reality. But they do, before I can stop them.  
"I love you, Simon Snow."  
My confession falls on deaf ears. He's asleep. Completely asleep. I stop crying then. Every cell in my body pauses. I feel as though I've just uttered the most advanced spell there is. The most magickal words of all. And Simon Snow will never hear them.


	5. Down with the Mage!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is just Simon/Baz banter. No angst this time!

Baz is writing furiously at his desk when I get back to our room after dinner. His pen is slashing across the paper like wildfire and he's practically muttering under his breath. I try to ignore him and do my own homework but it's getting on my nerves.  
"What are you doing, Baz?" I seethe, spinning in my chair to face his desk.  
"Homework." He growls.  
"And what sort of homework requires you to make that level of noise?" I say in my best superior tone.  
Baz throws his pen onto the desk and closes his eyes for a moment, his jaw clenched. "It's Political Science. Now if you don't mind"-  
I stand up. "Pol Sci?! But we only got that homework today, it's not due for ages."  
"Well, I've got a lot to say." Says Baz, whisking up his pen again and hunching protectively back over his paper.  
I scowl at his back. Of course he's got a lot to say. We've been set an essay on the ascendancy of the Mage. Baz's family were practically royalty before the Mage took his place as headmaster. I smirk as Baz nicks a hole in his paper with the tip of his pen and curses profusely. I've been trying to get him done for a few weeks after what happened with Philippa, but there's no proof against him. He was there, but no one can prove that he was the one who took her voice. Not even me. I know he knows what I'm trying to do. He's been avoiding me. We avoid each other as a rule as it is but this is different. He doesn't catch my eye at dinner to sneer at me. He only speaks to me if I speak to him rather than fishing out some snarky remark as soon as I walk into a room. He can't even look me in the eye anymore.  
I wonder if he feels guilty.  
Nah.  
Baz lacks the capacity to feel any sort of empathy. I think he's a psychopath. Or a sociopath? They're practically the same thing, he's probably both.

Baz clears his throat and stands.  
Of course he volunteered to read out an extract of his essay first. Penny and I are supposed to go next. I don't think I'll want to after this… Miss Possibelf is taking the class in place of our usual Pol Sci teacher today – I'm glad. She likes me. Baz flashes a smirk in my direction and tucks a single, loose lock of black hair behind his ear before beginning.  
"Miss, I would like to begin by thanking the school for this opportunity for our opinions to be voiced - albeit a rare one"-  
First stab at the Mage and he hasn't even started.  
-"I would like it to be known that my essay contains the opinions of not only myself, but other students. I felt that my argument would be much stronger if it were backed up by sentiments others, such as these two fine young gentlemen."  
Baz gestured to his minions, Niall and Dev. Baz looks down at them fondly, like they're puppies or something. As if their opinions count, I think. He's got to be taking the piss. Half the class are giggling because Baz is so outrageously formal but he's got their attention. Most of us stand there and stutter when we're asked to speak in front of the class. Penny is an exception too but she's not like this. Pompous git. Baz is almost smugger than I've ever seen him before he reads out his essay. Most of the sentences don't make sense to me. They're so long and pretentious and full of horrifically long words that only someone like Baz would ever use. I keep hearing things like "Restricts intellectual freedom," and "Oppression of the minority" at which point I mutter, "Yeah well, at least the Mage isn't specieist…"  
Penelope taps my arm and breathes, 'Shhhh!'  
Baz's eyes flick over at me too. Did he seriously hear that?  
"Our cultures and classes have been forcibly segregated to the point where resentment and political tensions have been rising ever since the reforms…" Baz continues.  
It's just annoying now. There's a whole other meaning of subtext to what he's saying. He may as well be waving a flag saying 'Down with the Mage! Legally… Of course…'  
Miss Possibelf is watching from behind her desk, her eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. I think she's just as surprised as we are by the implications of what Baz is saying. Got to admit, that takes some balls. Niall is nodding along at every word like one of those noddy dogs people put on the back of their cars and Dev has completely zoned out. They're both such gorms. Why Baz is friends with them, I don't know. I'm not saying Baz necessarily deserves better friends but still…  
Penny sighs heavily at regular intervals. I can hear her teeth grinding. Finally, Baz finishes.  
"Thank you." He says, with a small, neat bow. His hair falls over his face but from the angle I'm sitting at I see his satisfied grin. Sneaky bastard.  
Miss Possibelf coughs. "Well…" She says, "That was very… Opinionated, Basil. And articulated. Err… Well done! So, what can we gather from Mr. Pitch's arguments?"  
"REVOLUTIOOOON!" Gareth yells from the back of the room. He and Rhys break into fits of goofy laughter.  
"I'm pleased to see you're taking this seriously…" Miss Possibelf sighs. "But no, I don't think that's what"-  
"Actually," Baz interrupts, "It may come to that."  
The class is silent.  
"Think about it," He says, leaning back in his chair with his legs stretched out, "If the oppression of the old families continues"-  
"You've got to be joking! Oppression?! You basically live in palaces." I say with a scoff. Baz raises an eyebrow. I hate it when he pulls that face at me… Cue the clever-bollocks comeback…  
"Tell me, Snow, how would you feel if all of a sudden your rights and traditions were pulled out from under your nose by someone who tells you they know better?"  
"Now, boys, let's not"- Miss Possibelf steps between us. I'm on the edge of my chair, ready to pounce. Baz is still leaning back, leisurely as ever. It's pissing me off.  
"Baz, you basically said that all low-powered magicians shouldn't be allowed into Watford." Says Penny sharply, crossing her arms. The class look to Baz.  
He shrugs.  
"It's the simple matter of how much education can we really afford? It's all well and good that the Mage wants to offer everyone that opportunity but since then, every unicorn and- and vampire thinks they're entitled to a place."  
I make a noise somewhere in the back of my throat. Baz knows why instantly. His eyes narrow. You've got some nerve, I think. Talk about a slip of the tongue.  
"That's hardly true…" Penny argues.  
"Very soon, this place is going to be oversubscribed. In the old days, Watford was a lot more selective about its students."  
"Anyway, I think that's enough on the subject." Miss Possibelf practically has to shout over the classes mutters. "I think we've all gathered what Mr. Pitch was trying to conclude with that and now we're running out of time…"  
Penny and I barely have ten minutes to speak about our ideas on the Mage's reforms. The class isn't really paying attention. They're still buzzing about Baz's call for the Mage to step down. Most of them think it's funny. Including Baz who sneers in my direction at every opportunity. I can feel myself seething. It's impossible to stay calm and collected for the rest of the day even. He's slipping back to his old ways already. Catching my eye. Making snide remarks. Realistically the peace was never going to last… I should have known.


	6. The Chimera

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baz and Simon get into a sticky spot with a Chimera (Alternating POV's)

(Simon's POV)

I'm not sure why I trusted him. Okay, deep down I didn't, but I was still stupid. Maybe it's because he hasn't said anything to Agatha recently. Or maybe because he's not made any snide comments over the past few days. Maybe it was because the letter was so convincing, so short and convincing, that I had to come. I didn't care if it was a lie, even if there was the slightest chance he could be telling the truth, I knew I had to go. And he knew that. And now there's a chimera snarling in my face.  
My sword comes when I call for it, but the chimera's seen me now and I think it's about to charge. It's got a hideous snout – all curled up in fleshy blobs around its nose. Huge, yellowing fangs curling and poking at its dripping gums. Its doused in spotty brown fur, like a hyena, and its claws look like they could rip through steel. Its snarling and growling and hissing all at once. The wavering wood is dark. No one is going to come and save me. All of a sudden it stops snarling and sniffs at the air. Its tail flicks loosely behind it. It's blotted, red eyes glint past my shoulder. I whip around.  
Baz.  
The chimera swaps angles. It's going for him now?! I have to stop myself from punching the air with joy. Fucking yes!

(Baz's POV)

I'm a fucking idiot.

(Simon's POV)

"Do something, Snow!" Baz yells at me in panic as the chimera starts pacing towards him instead.  
"You're the one who lured it here!" I shout back. There's pure panic in his eyes. He's poised like he's ready to run but he knows that as soon as he does the chimera will only chase him down.  
"Snow, do something! Now!" He screams at me. I click my tongue.  
"What's the magic word?"  
"What?!" He snaps at me incredulously.  
I'm shit scared, but I've never had this much control over anyone in my life.  
"What's the magic word?" I repeat as if I'm talking to a six year old. Baz is seething. Terrified, but seething. "PLEASE do something, Snow!" He says through gritted teeth.  
I'm so caught up in teasing Baz that I don't realise the chimera's turned on me again.  
"S- Snow…" Baz stutters, pointing, just as the chimera leaps.  
"Stand your ground!" I yell the spell on impulse. The chimera's back legs freeze to the soil as if glued there. Its front legs flop uselessly forward.  
I've used too much magic though. Every tree within a five metre radius is ablaze with fire.  
"Snow, you useless git!" Baz growls at me. He doesn't move though. He lurches forward but his feet won't budge. My spell must have worked on him too. I march past him.  
"Don't leave me here!" He shouts as I leave him. I'm not in a hurry to be burned alive. Or eaten. Or both.  
"Why shouldn't I?" I turn to retort. Beads of sweat have broken out across his grey skin and he glances around at the burning trees. The chimera scrabbles aimlessly at the ground with its front legs, whining.  
"I'll die!" He yells. "I'm… I'm flammable."  
"So am I."  
"You know what I mean!"  
I glare at him. He glares back. But there's a desperate glint in his eye. I already know I'm going to free him after seeing that. It's just too pathetic.  
"You tried to kill me just now." I say, ignoring the rising temperature in the air around me.  
"I – I wasn't! It was a prank, that's all. I was going to stop it if it went too far."  
"That's a chimera, Baz! You. Were. Trying. To. Kill me." Baz doesn't dare open his mouth again. I think he's too worried I'll just leave him there. I'm tempted, I really am. "Why did you do it?"

(Baz's POV)

Why did I do it? That's a good question. Maybe it's because I'm sick of looking at your face. It drives me crazy, Snow. I want to kiss it and bite it at the same time. That's what I'd say to him if I was being honest. But right now I want to get away from this fire. My skin is already starting to prickle uncomfortably.  
"It was a laugh, alright?"  
"You're not laughing now."  
Fuck you, Snow. I wish I could.  
"Hurry up." He utters the spell quietly. I feel my feet unfreeze. I have to stop myself from sighing with relief. I don't want him to see how relieved I am.


	7. The Dance and the Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for the end of year dance and Simon has an alarming dream involving his nemesis.

(Simon's POV)

In a week, it'll be time for me to go back to the Normals. Exams are over, summer is here, and everyone is buzzing to leave. Except me.  
I was supposed to go to a Political Science lecture today but Agatha won't let me because she says I have to go to the dance practice. Miss Possibelf always puts on a practice dance class before the end of year dance. I wanted to argue with Agatha but she's right. I do need to practice. I'm a terrible dancer. The last thing I want to do is show her up.  
"Penny, are you going to the practice?"  
"What do you think, Simon? Lecture or dance?" Penny replies as though it's obvious. Of course I know the answer. Guess I'll be going to the practice alone then. Penny and Agatha are going to the lecture together.  
I hang my head as I head through the corridors to the hall. All of the tables have been cleared and there are a few chairs lined up at one side for us. The space is large and open. A HiFi system hooked up to a pair of speakers sits on one, small table next to Miss Possibelf. I'm late.  
"Good of you to join us, Simon." She says pointedly as I walk in. "Take a seat."  
There aren't many of us here. Most people have chosen to go to the lecture instead. I would have too if I didn't need to brush up on my dance skills so badly.  
My heart sinks when I see a familiar face sneering up at me from the end of the row. He's got his hair tied up and he's still in his football kit. He must have just been to practice. Football to dance, of course he would, wouldn't he? Maybe he's just here to antagonise me. I wonder why he's not at the lecture.  
Baz bloody Pitch.  
I sit as far away from him as I can and make every effort not to make eye contact with him. I haven't spoken to him at all since the chimera incident. And he still hasn't apologised. Not that I expected him to. Not that he ever would.  
"I'm sorry that this has clashed with the lecture, everyone, I would have liked to have had more here but this was the only slot I could get." Said Miss Possibelf, her mouth twisted with distaste. "Anyhow, I'm glad you're all here." She looked around at the meagre ten or so of us. "The first thing you need to do is get a partner. I'm sure you all know that by now."  
I look around. There are about five girls. None of them are looking at me though. I start to panic as one by one they turn to another boy near them. If only Penny was here… Or Agatha. That would be better. But she's never ever come to a practice before. She's never had to.  
"Right! Are we"-?  
"Miss! I don't have a partner." I call out.  
"Oh…" She frowns. "Well, Mister Pitch hasn't got a partner either it seems, so you two will have to go together."  
My mouth goes dry and I glance across. I'm pretty sure Baz's expression mirrors mine. No, actually it doesn't. That was wishful thinking. His face is covered in a sneer and that awful, self-satisfied smugness.  
"No, miss, I"-  
"Oh, don't be a spoilsport, Snow." Says Baz, striding over. There's a loose, black strand of hair hanging just over his eye. He casually sweeps it back and stands before me.  
Miss Possibelf realises her mistake a little too late. She grimaces. "Try to get a long." I hear her breathe as she sweeps past us to the HiFi.  
"Fuck's sake…" I mutter in contempt, scuffing my shoes on the wooden bored. I'm staring at the floor but I can feel Baz raise his eyebrows. I don't even have to look anymore.

(Baz's POV)

I won't pretend I didn't plan this. I knew that Bunce and Snow's girlfriend would be going to the lecture and of course she'd make him come to practice. She does every year. I never usually come. I don't mean to flatter myself but I really am a great dancer. I tried to tell myself that I'd come just to see Snow make a fool of himself. Actually I just want any excuse to put my hands all over him. I'm despicable, I know.  
Miss Possibelf hits play.  
"Don't worry, Snow." I say, a hint of a laugh in my tone, "I won't let you trip over your own feet."  
I think he replies but it comes out as an unintelligible growl. His magic is oozing out of him like a pool of hot sauce. It burns my tongue. Who ever thought something as harmless as dancing could provoke such a reaction? I smirk and place a confident hand on his waist. As soon as I touch him he flinches and his cheeks burn red. He glares over at Miss Possibelf and then, without looking at me, puts one hand on my shoulder. It's barely touching me but I can feel the heat. I lick my lips. Snow stares at the floor, his nose wrinkled.  
Miss Possibelf instructs us from a raised platform at the head of the hall. She tells us where to put our feet, when to step, and so on. I already know, of course, but Snow doesn't even try. He just mindlessly stomps, deliberately standing on my toes at regular intervals.  
"Crowley, Snow, you're even worse than I thought." I say when he leads us into another couple.  
"Shut up, Baz." He spits. He still can't look at my face. His is beet red. His fingernails dig into my shoulder.  
"Ouch." I say, slowly. Enunciating the sound. Even though it doesn't hurt at all.  
"Why are you doing this? We hate each other."  
"I wanted to practice. You wanted to practice. There was no one else. It's not like we had much of a choice."  
"You tried to kill me."  
I roll my eyes. "That again? Really, Snow. Are you ever going to drop it?"  
"No!" He snarls. A few people turn around. I wink at a girl hooked up to some acne-ridden kid. She blushes and turns away, biting her lip.  
"Temper…" I reply quietly. Snow's magic is rising in the air like a thermometer. It's making the hairs on the back of my neck raise and pulling me like a magnet at the same time. I'm doing that. This is because of me. I grin.  
Snow grinds his teeth.  
The song ends. Snow pulls away from me in that exact second, putting a large distance between us. His face resembles a cooked tomato.  
Miss Possibelf dismisses us and Snow is out of the door faster than a flaming polecat.

(Simon's POV)

That was the gayest thing I've ever done in my entire life. I looked like a dickhead. Baz made me look like a dickhead. Baz is a dickhead.  
Crowley, help me if Penny ever hears about that. I'll never hear the end of it.  
I can picture it now: "You danced with Baz? Why didn't you just leave?" The idea of leaving only occurred to me halfway through. Baz was holding me in a vice. I couldn't have escaped even if I'd wanted to. The left side of my waist is still scorching from where he was touching me. And my shoulder. And my whole face I think.  
When I get to dinner, Penny and Agatha start telling me about the lecture. Seems I didn't miss much. Then Agatha asks me how practice went.  
"Erm… Alright." I reply. Baz is looking at me from across the room. I know he is. I can feel it. I don't dare shift my gaze from Agatha's face. She scowls all of a sudden.  
"Oh yeah, who did you partner with?"  
"Erm…"  
"You go with me usually, I'd completely forgotten about that." Says Penny, biting into an apple.  
"Just…" I can't help myself. My eyes flick over to the place where Baz always sits. He's not looking at me though. He's laughing with Niall and Dev. Why isn't he looking at me? Agatha turns around.  
"What are you staring at? Simon"- She clicks her fingers, "You're on another planet."  
Baz isn't looking at me.  
"What? Oh, sorry."  
"So who did you go with?"  
They're both scowling at me suspiciously now. Fuck.  
"Just some girl from our year. I don't know her name." I say as casually as I can.  
"Really? What did she look like?" Agatha quizzes, leaning across the table to watch me closely. She knows I'm lying.  
"Black hair…" I say, "NO! Actually, like… Brown. I think. I wasn't really paying attention. She was quite tall. Couple of inches taller than me…"  
Baz still isn't looking at me.  
Agatha watches me for a few seconds longer. Then she shrugs.  
"Oh. Well, I'm glad you got some practice in anyway."  
"Hmmm."  
"What's the matter, Simon? You're really distracted today. Has the mage said something?" Penelope asks, her voice spelling concern.  
"Wha…? No. I'm just really tired."  
They exchange a look so I look at Baz again. I do a double take. He's looking at me. His lips curl into a smirk and his grey eyes flash. I scowl. Automatic reaction. I meant to just look away and pretend I hadn't noticed.  
Dammit.

It's the night before we leave tomorrow. The night of the dance. I'm wearing a suit that Agatha's dad leant me. It fits surprisingly well, a little loose on the shoulders, but apart from that it's great. Not worth using magic on to alter, anyway. It's white to match Agatha's dress. I pulled a face when I first saw it. It felt too weddingy. But I can't help but feel really good in it now that it's actually on. Agatha and I have already danced. (I couldn't help but remember the last time I danced in this hall and I cringed horribly. Agatha thought she'd done something wrong) Now, slightly hot and sweaty, I'm sitting at a table with her and Penny. Baz has ignored me all evening, thank god. I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel smug that he hasn't brought anyone along. It's just him and his minions, plotting in the corner looking posh.  
I notice the mage watching me from across the room. He's at the head of the table sat next to Miss Possibelf. He nods. I nod back.  
Gareth and Rhys mill around our table for a while too. Penny doesn't give them the time of day. I talk to them for a bit and Penny and Agatha give each other a look that quite clearly says "Boys."  
It's almost the end of the evening. All the slow songs have started playing. A few couples linger on the dance floor, flopping onto each other and soppily kissing. I can see Agatha eyeing them as if considering a last dance with me. I don't fancy it. I'm about to make an excuse about being tired and needing to pack when the one person I don't want to talk to comes to our table.  
"Aren't you going to dance with me, Snow?"  
Penny and Agatha stare. I slam my hands onto the table and stand up.  
"Can't you just Fuck. Off?"  
Baz pouts. He's always pouting, but he exaggerates it for now. "You'll let all of our practice go to waste? Shame, I was hoping our little session would be put to use."  
Penny is the first to catch on.  
"Is he talking about the practice last week, Simon?"  
"I…"  
"You didn't tell them, Snow? I'm offended."  
Agatha claps her hands over her mouth.  
"You partnered with him?!"  
My cheeks are burning up, I can feel it. "No – I… Yes."  
Penny guffaws into her drink, spraying her glasses.  
"I didn't have a choice! Miss Possibelf said we had to and then this bastard practically forced me!"  
Baz makes a noise in the back of his throat. "You keep telling yourself that, Snow. Later." He winks at Agatha (I notice her face turn slightly pink) and leaves. I want to stab him in the back. I don't think my sword would come to me if I called it for that though.  
Agatha looks like she's just been smacked in the face and Penny can't stop laughing.  
"Well…" She manages, wiping tears from her eyes, "I can see why you lied."  
"I want to forget about it, alright?" I grumble, picking at the tablecloth. "Anyway. I'm gonna go to bed. I'm tired and I've got stuff to pack still. Night."  
I can't bear to look at their faces as I leave.  
To my relief, Baz isn't in our room when I get back. I figure it's going to be one of those nights where we won't come back for hours. He does this a couple of times a week. In fact, it's always on a Monday and a Friday. And today is Friday. He'll probably be back around 1am. I'm usually asleep by then. Anyhow, I'm glad of the peace.  
I go to bed content, knowing that he isn't plotting to kill me only a few metres away while I sleep. This would all be great if it wasn't my last night at Watford until September…

I'm on the football pitch. It's snowing. If it weren't for the goal posts at the end of this white expanse, I wouldn't know that it's the pitch. And then there's a figure. I can't see it. The snow is falling too thick. It's getting stuck in my eyelashes and seeping down my back. But it isn't cold. If anything it's refreshing. The figure gets closer. He has his hands in his pockets.  
"Hello, Snow." He says. "Are you enjoying the snow?" Then he laughs. I know that voice. And that self-satisfied smirk. But it's not aimed at me this time. The flakes clear as if by magic. Maybe he cast a spell. The sky is full of stars. Bursting with them. A milky, yellow crescent moon hangs above us, suspended in the pitch of night. A Pitch on the Pitch in the Pitch black of night.  
Baz smiles at me, flashing pure white teeth in his grey face. His hair isn't slicked back like it was at the dance. I don't like it when he does that. It's nice like this, framing his face with a slight wave. I reach up and push a loose strand behind his ear. My fingers brush his cheek on the way. Instead of pulling away, Baz leans into my hand. He steps closer. He looks really good tonight. He's wearing a white shirt and slim, black trousers. The top buttons are undone, revealing sharp collarbones. The hollow in his throat moves slightly when he swallows. I trace it with my fingers. The skin is cool and smooth, like sculpted marble. Baz catches my hand and pulls me towards him. He winds his other hand into my hair and leans down, closing the couple of inches gap between us. Then he's locked our lips together. Baz kisses me, crushing our faces as if we might be forced apart at any second. The scene flashes and suddenly we're on the ground. I'm nearly buried in a blanket of snow but that's okay because now we're completely hidden from view, even though I'm sure that we're the only two people that exist in this world. Baz is on top of me. He's kissing my neck. Heating it with his tongue. He's whispering but I can't make sense of the words. They're noises, delicate, small noises that don't make any sense. They don't have to make sense, because everything is perfect.  
Everything is perfect until I wake up. And real-life Baz is there. Standing above my bed. Looking slightly horrified. And my hand is wet. Oh my fuck.

(Baz's POV)

Did I just catch him…? Yep. I did. Oh my fuck.

(Simon's POV)

"I think I'm going to be sick."  
That's all I can manage before I leap out of bed and make it to the bathroom with a second to spare. The last time I was this sick was when I ate three packets of silica gel when I was six. Baz wanders in at some point.  
"This is the oddest reaction to being caught wanking off I've ever seen." He says, leaning against the doorframe.  
As if on cue, I'm sick again.  
"Fuck off, Baz…" I croak.  
He doesn't. He comes into the bathroom and shuts the door.  
"Seriously though." He says. "Are you erm… Well… You're clearly not okay."  
I have to remind myself that Baz doesn't know what I was dreaming about. (Unless he can read minds – can vampires read minds? Or is that just twilight? I really hope not) Still, a combination of sheer panic, shock and shame has caused me to throw up. But if I had to choose between those two embarrassing eruptions of bodily fluid, I'd rather go for the throwing up. Sadly, I've just done both. In front of fucking Baz.  
When I'm certain that the contents of my stomach have completely emptied, I heave myself up and start brushing my teeth. Baz is still watching me.  
"Were you drunk?" He asks.  
"No." I snarl through foamy toothpaste.  
"Drugs?"  
I throw him a look.  
"Okay, I get it." He holds his hands up in defence. His hair isn't slicked back anymore. It's all come loose… Like it was in my dream.  
I close my eyes and have to stop brushing my teeth for a second. My face must be screwed up because he says,  
"Are you going to be sick again?"  
I shake my head.  
"Crowley, Snow…" He sighs and leaves the bathroom. He always says that.  
When I'm done, I tread back into the bedroom. There is absolutely no way I am going to change the sheets in front of him. I'll just have to put up with the mess. It is my fault after all, even if I wasn't conscious I was doing it. My stomach is still flipping.   
"Now we're even." Baz drawls from his bed. He's lying back on top of the covers in the semi darkness, the dim strip of light from the bathroom illuminates him.  
"How is this even?"  
"Well, now we've both caught each other in compromising situations." I'm silent. "And yes, I'm referring to the catacombs." He finishes.  
"Hmph. First time you've mentioned that since it happened." I say, pulling back the covers and forcing myself to climb into the bed. I'm halfway in when I decide against it and go back into the bathroom for a glass of water.  
"Can we just…" I start.  
"Forget about this?" Baz knows exactly what I was going to say. He sits up. He starts unbuttoning his shirt. I look at his collarbones, I can't help it. And they look exactly how they did in my dream. I gulp.  
"I'm afraid I can't, Snow." He says with a small shrug.  
"Why not?"  
"Would you be able to forget about something like that?"  
He has a point. Irritatingly.  
"Situations like this are perfect blackmail material. I could use this." He says, seriously contemplating the matter.  
"You're such a villain."  
"And you're such a… Good guy."  
Baz sees me standing there, silently seething. But inside, I'm secretly thanking the powers that be that he can't see into my mind. I honestly think I'd never be able to come back to Watford if he knew what I'd been dreaming about. As it is though, Baz rolls his eyes and sighs.  
"Go to bed, Snow."  
I do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading this prequel-style series of random events, some of which mentioned in Carry On, some of which I made up according to the workings of my strange imaginings of what might have happened. I hope this was a satisfying ending!


End file.
